Forever, Finally
by Nightlightbright
Summary: Damon and Elena come home from a night out to enjoy what they really want: each other. They've been together for a year and are more in love than ever, but tonight turns out to be very different than any other they've shared. A fluffy, smutty two-shot that picks up where the epilogue of the AU/AH story, River Deep, Ocean Wide left off, with a surprise twist. AU/AH, Delena.
1. Chapter 1 - Flint

_Author's Note: Hellllllllooooooooo, my lovies! *throws arms open for a big group hug.* I missed you guys SO MUCH. Like, SO MUCH. *pets your hair lovingly*…yes YOU!_

_Here we are, back in **River Deep, Ocean Wide** land for the first installment of my two-part continuation of the RDOW epilogue. If you are new here and have not read my aforementioned AU/AH fic, filled with angst and smut and romance and a version of Elena that doesn't make you want to shake your fist at Julie Plec in protest, WELCOME, and also, why don't you check it out? And while you are doing so, please leave me little review breadcrumbs on your way back here. One thing you will learn very early on in your RDOW reading experience that I am an unabashed, groveling review-whore. They just make me happy. Don't you want Nightlight to be happy? _

_And to all of my old friends, THANK YOU for being patient with me. I know you had to wait a long time for this, but I hope I'll be forgiven when you see the little surprise I left for you all in this first chapter. ;) Mt Princeton, this is for you._

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_It might be useful for you to know that the DSM-V stands for "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders - Fifth Edition" and is considered the universal authority for psychiatric diagnosis in the United States. _

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**Chapter 1: Flint**

I slide the key into my lock, jiggling it a little when it sticks a quarter of the way through the turn like it always does. I must have accidentally given Damon my original when I made him his key because it's never worked quite as smoothly since.

But all in all, if that and an ongoing disagreement over how much clothing is acceptable to wear to bed are the biggest hiccups we've had to deal with since he agreed to move in with me, I'd say were doing just fine.

"I still can't believe you knew Ric was going to propose to Jenna!" I exclaim, the faint buzz of the alcohol in my bloodstream just enough to make all the hard edges of the world delightfully fuzzy.

"There's no way I would have been able to keep a secret that massive. It would've just _burst_ out of me when I wasn't…" I start, but have to trail off, my hands stilled on the key where it sits in the opened lock.

Damon's fingers are stealing under the dark curtain of my hair, his rough knuckles skimming over the back of my neck with the lightest of touches. He gathers the long strands in his hand, gently but deliberately slipping them over one shoulder. The fine hairs he's exposed at the base of my hairline stand on end, a shiver darting into my scalp, then sizzling down to my lower belly.

"…paying…attention..." I breathe, letting the words still left on my tongue slip out on my next exhale even though I've forgotten what they were supposed to mean.

The cool air chills the skin he's uncovered for a mere second before I feel the heat of his body stepping into place behind mine, and then his parted lips are at my shoulder, teasing the skin that peeks out from my cap-sleeved dress with the barest of touches. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow, letting myself savor the luxurious feel of him that I still can't take for granted, even after all this time.

His warm breath bathes my chilled skin, sending another shiver straight to my sex, making my nipples harden under my dress so that even the scratch of my lace bra moving against them with every inhale and exhale feels incredible. His lips travel the line of muscle that leads to the sensitive dip where my shoulder curves into my throat and I swallow a whimper, trying not to let on to the fact that I'm already panting when he's barely begun to touch me.

"You know I hate keeping secrets from you," he says, his tone low and intimate, the feel of his lips moving over my skin when he speaks so unexpectedly sensual, I have to wiggle a little against the answering pulse that throbs between my legs.

"But I thought you might forgive me for keeping this one," he says huskily. The warm wetness of his tongue peeks out to taste me, the contrasting scratch of his stubble providing just enough sharpness to make me extra aware of every sensation.

An assenting "mmmm," is my only reply.

At that, he presses himself flush against my back, wrapping his strong hands around my hipbones, and I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder with a sigh. His body against mine feels so amazing, as though he is made up of a different substance than the rest of the universe, a type of matter perfectly calibrated to catalyze mine. His fingers flex gently as he pulls me back, fitting my hips tightly against his, the length of his already rock-hard arousal a more then welcome surprise.

"Well, well, well," I manage, trying and failing to sound playfully seductive instead of needy. "Looks like somebody's excited we're home."

"And you're not?" he rumbles into the sensitive hollow just behind my ear. A snappy rejoinder attempts to form but is dead in the water when he touches his tongue there, shamelessly exploiting what he knows is my fatal weakness in order to make his point.

I press my lips together against the moan fighting its way out of my throat, letting it simmer and fade before I release the tension in my neck under his lips, letting my head fall forward and out of his way, giving him plenty of room to continue doing _exactly_ what he is doing.

"No fair," I say, trying not to let on just how short of breath I am already. "I had that extra drink tonight after you stopped so there's no way I'll be able to resist you now. I'm, like, this helpless, wounded gazelle…"

Damon snorts an adorable but decidedly un-sexy laugh against my neck. "Oh, really? So does that make me the big scary lion?"

"More like the sweet, sexy lion," I correct, placing my hand over his where it sits at my hip. "Though I won't argue with the _big_," I say, arching my back and pressing my backside against his length, wiggling just a little for good measure. He drops his forehead to my neck and hisses through his teeth and a victorious smile tugs at my lips.

"And I'm like, your weak, defenseless little dinner," I purr poutily, playing on my momentary advantage as I lift the hand that is not bracing me against the door up to braid my fingers into his hair. I scratch his scalp lightly with my fingernails before slipping my hand down to his face to press him closer, nuzzling the stubbly-softness of his cheek more tightly against my throat.

"More like _dessert_," he growls and then nips at my shoulder muscle, turning the knob of the door and pushing us inside. I squeal and make a quick grab for the keys we are both about to forget are still in the lock and the awkward motion sends me stumbling non-too-gracefully over the threshold. He catches me around the waist, laughing, and then kicks the door shut behind us in one enviably coordinated movement.

He holds me steady until I regain my feet, and I turn to face him, grinning happily as the last of my giggles subside. But instead of returning my goofy smile I see his breath catch, his eyes turning sparkling-clear and soulful. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his lips slightly parted as he lifts his hand to tuck my mussed hair back behind my ear.

His expression is so full of bare, smoldering devotion it makes my heart squeeze protectively in my chest, makes me want to light a fire on Katherine's grave and dance until even the memory of her is ash, to show up on Giuseppe's doorstep with a machete and a tank full of Koi-Piranhas and at least two grenades and sword and maybe even a switchblade.

"Except I do prefer my dessert to be wearing a little less clothes," he says huskily, and I barely catch the warning glint of mischief that passes over his expression before he disappears from view and I am being scooped up over his shoulder, muscle and bone digging into the soft skin of my belly and his taut forearm locked over the back of my legs.

"_Damonnn!_" I squeal, but a firm swat to my behind is his only reply, his strides long and determined and not the slightest bit altered by the burden of my weight as he makes his way to bedroom.

He sweeps my pumps off of my feet with a single brush of his arm and kicks the already ajar door to the bedroom open and then I am falling, my back hitting the mattress with a soft thump instead of a bounce because it's made of memory foam instead of cotton and creaky springs like the one he used to have at his place.

"Hey," I grouse, frowning as I lean up to rest on my forearms.

"Sorry," he murmurs automatically, but he looks anything but. His expression is the picture of depraved hunger, the victorious curve of his lips sending goosebumps sweeping over my skin. His eyes lick over me slowly, as though he is debating exactly how to devour me.

I can't wait.

**Damon**

"Turn over," I command, keeping my voice low but firm so there will be no room for argument. The delicate flush I catch painting her cheeks before she obliges me tells me I've struck the right note, and thank God because I am in the mood to take control, to _take her_.

If there is anything in this world I crave more than the sight of her coming, the feel of her melting under my mouth, clamping down on my fingers, stretched tight around my cock, I cannot remember it now, lost as I am to the sight of her flawlessly-shaped ass peeking out from under the bunching hem of her dress, adorned in crimson lace the color of my dreams.

It never gets old, the sight of this magnificent woman giving herself to me, this woman I loved for so long, always close enough to touch but so far out of reach. It has taken me awhile to get used to how open we are allowed to be now—that I can touch her in public, that when she asks, "What are you thinking?" when I've been caught looking at her too long, I can answer honestly.

In the beginning, it was such a shock: her lips brushing a casual peck at my jawline, her hand slipped quietly into mine. And I've never thought to ask her if it was the same for her, though the gentle blush that often touched her cheeks afterwards makes me think it must have been. As for me, though the stab of adrenaline that followed even the most casual of displays of affection has lessened over the course of this year, it's never really gone away completely.

Maybe that's why things between Elena and me have always felt like an explosion, from that first time when I followed her here after Stefan and Caroline's wedding to now, almost a full 365 days and a countless number of touches later. Her body is gasoline under the flint of my fingers and there is nothing to do but enjoy over and over again the beautiful power of what it is like to burn.

Elena stretches her arms toward the headboard, arching her back so her dress rides further up and her perfect ass pushes further into the air. _Good God_, this woman is going to end me before I even begin. She begins to slide her legs apart slowly, purposely, revealing herself inch by torturous inch. My dick throbs in response, eager to accept her invitation, to surge up and inside of her and lose myself in the tight heat of her body, the desperate sounds of her pleasure. Elena wants it too, her entire body vibrating with excitement and desire, ready to cash in on the promise of my rough treatment when I carried her in here.

If this were any other night, I would fuck her like she wants me to. But this isn't any other night.

I kissed her ring finger at the restaurant.

And even though I could feel the effort she was putting into keeping her disposition easy, the steady patience of her devotion trying to tell me without words that it's okay, that she won't hold me to it, I don't know how to tell her that I _want_ her to.

I loosen the top two buttons of my shirt and pull it up over my head, then step out of my jeans as quickly as I can, suppressing a smile at the way she wiggles anxiously and swallows an almost inaudible whimper at the sound of my belt buckle and zipper coming undone. She turns her head so her cheek is resting on the mattress and, _fuck me_, she is biting that luscious, plump lip of hers, her eyes resting shut in easy trust and it hits me like a fist to my chest, snagging my breath jaggedly in my lungs.

I want more than anything to be worthy of that trust.

_Slow, Salvatore, _slow.

I take a deep quiet breath and blow it out carefully, ignoring my almost painful hard-on as I reach for her ankles, encircling them gently before sliding up. She sighs with relief at my touch, settling herself into the mattress. I drink in the silkiness of her skin with my fingertips, the long lines of her toned flesh guiding them where they want most to be. I splay my hands wide as I move beyond the dip behind her knees, my thumbs skimming the buttery softness of the inside of her thighs. I see her body growing taut, fighting the urge to squirm as she anticipates my destination. I keep my languid pace, undeterred.

When I reach the line where the red lace of her boyshorts gives way to flesh I trace it smoothly with my thumbs, ignoring the way she is straining for me to move my touch inward. I swallow hard against the siren song of the wetness that is already darkening the crimson of her panties there, my teeth grinding together with the effort of resisting. I slide my palms up and over the curve of her ass instead, then trace the line where the swell of her flesh and the back of her thighs melts together, first with my fingertips and then with my tongue.

She moans and presses back towards my mouth and I nip at her skin with my teeth in playful warning, making her jump and squeak a small sound of surprise. With her sufficiently caught off guard, I grab ahold of her hips, keeping them in place at just the angle I need to finally allow myself the taste of her I've been craving. I dip my tongue into the innermost part of her thigh, running it along the silky skin just outside the barrier of her panties and she lets out a long low moan, wiggling against my grip as she tries to position my mouth closer to the center of her.

"Ah, ah, _Signorina_," I say hoarsely. "Good things come to those who wait."

"We tried waiting remember?" she breathes, her body restless against the sheet despite the effort she is making to keep her voice casual. "We sucked at it."

A chuckle rises from my chest. "Fair enough," I say, dropping a kiss to the back of her thigh. "So, what does my impatient gazelle want from the future author of her inevitable demise?" I ask.

"That it be less inevitable and more imminent," she says flatly.

I laugh out loud in spite of myself, and she pouts.

"You of all people should know it's not nice to laugh at a desperate woman," she says. I open my mouth to reply but have to snap it shut when she raises her hips and draws her knees under her, driving me to the floor and onto mine as she positions herself at the edge of the mattress, her dress bunching around her torso and her cheek still pressed against the sheets in a posture of submission that is doing nothing to relieve the thick throb of blood drumming its way south of my navel. She is peering back at me with a look of triumph that I don't even have a prayer of refuting.

I swallow hard, my voice so raw it is almost a whisper when I speak. "And what are you desperate for, exactly?" I ask, holding her eyes.

"For my boyfriend to _fuck me_," she says without even the slightest flutter of her eyelashes, the sound of her tongue licking the syllables vibrating straight from my eardrums to my cock.

All but the very last thread of resistance I was hanging on to in the name of sexual strategizing officially disintegrates and it is all I can do to remind myself that if I stand up and take her now like she wants me to, there's a chance I'll hurt her. _God,_ I don't want to hurt her. So I hold her hips in place and throw a Hail Mary, leaning in to run my tongue firmly along the center of her through the damp lace.

She makes a strangled sound and presses back for more but I hold her in place, comforting the backs of her thighs with my thumbs once so she'll know I've heard her unspoken plea—a reminder that I've never left her unsatisfied and I don't plan to start now.

I dip lower to massage my tongue against her clit through the lace and she rolls her hips subtly, eagerly against me, making tiny, almost inaudible whimpering sounds in the back of her throat in time with the movement of her hips. I pull back and slip my tongue up along the seam of the fabric, then press under it to sneak a taste of her bare skin, already silky with desire. God, she tastes fucking _incredible_.

She groans along with me, pushing hard against my grip, which I didn't realize until this moment had grown hard enough to bruise. I release her hips and pull her panties aside in apology, taking a long lazy taste of her, starting at her clit and drawing my tongue upwards with just the right amount of pressure to give her a hint of the edge of her orgasm but no more.

She mutters my name incoherently and I know she is given over, one hundred percent at my mercy. Warmth expands in my chest and protectiveness weaves itself into my spine. She is mine.

I pull away and run my hands up to her hips, brushing my knuckles across the quavering skin of her belly just under the hem of her panties before I slide them downward. I drag them over the rise of her backside, just a hair slower than is absolutely necessary. She tenses at my easy pace and I allow myself a smile that she can't see.

I coax the lace down her thighs one at a time, and when she returns to her kneeling position on the edge of the bed, all the delicate layers of her on glorious, unencumbered display, I have to take an extra breath to appreciate the sight. She shifts her weight on her knees impatiently and I decide to put both of us out of our misery.

I flatten my tongue and twirl it in a broad wet circle, slipping over her clit once before I run up the center of her once more, pressing deeper. I lose myself in her soft slickness, the unique taste of her, erotic and intimate and sweet.

She whimpers achingly in response, and I push my tongue inside of her. She gasps my name jaggedly, so I give her one, two, three more thrusts of my tongue, and when I feel the first flutter of her walls around me I roll my tongue down to her clit, dipping my head low and tilting her hips up so I can get the angle I need to make her fall apart.

She cries out and jerks in response but my hands are firm around her hipbones. I swirl my tongue over her and she groans, lifting up onto her forearms and throwing her head back as she pushes against my mouth, guiding me to the rhythm she needs.

"Damon, _please_," she begs and her voice has that _something_, that unnamable quality that makes my scalp prickle and my dick swell impossibly harder and _dear God_ I need to be inside of her. But not before she comes for me first.

I slide back up to enter her again, curling my tongue once more as I bring two fingers up to tease circles around her clit. She cries out in a raw sound that is a cross between a moan and my name, and then she is clamping down around my tongue, pulling at me with the waves of her release, the sweet taste of her flooding my senses. She is quivering so violently I have to wrap my forearm around the front of her thighs to keep her from falling off of the bed, flexing hard so she knows that I will hold all the weight she needs me to, that it is safe to let go.

When I feel her orgasm waning I let it, slowing my tongue and fingers to a stop before I pull back to drop a gentle kiss to the back of her thigh and release her. She collapses immediately into a boneless heap on the bed, panting into the hair that has fallen into her face so that it blows out and sucks into her face adorably with each breath.

I climb up and kneel between her legs, leaning forward to brush her hair off of her face with a patient tenderness that is at complete odds with the roaring demand of my cock, leaping helplessly at the sight of the woman I love completely undone by pleasure. I want her skin beneath me, not the fabric of this godforsaken dress, which has done nothing but taunt me all night long.

I uncover the tab of the zipper at her back and pull. I let my knuckles skim the line of her spine as I reveal it, earning a shiver that would usually make me smile, but right now, only makes my mouth feel unbearably dry. She is so responsive in the moments after orgasm and I want to lose myself in the sound of my name on her lips and the gasps of her pleasure and the hazy drug of her body answering my command, lost to everyone and everything but me.

Her zipper ends just below the red lace of her bra, so I pop the clasp open before reaching back under her skirt, running my hands up her body and pushing both the offending articles of clothing up and over her head as best I can without more than a few twitches of halfhearted assistance from the woman I am undressing.

The dress gets caught under the weight of her ribcage and I can't help but chuckle.

"Help me out?" I rumble, tugging fruitlessly from my awkward angle.

"Mmmnnocando. Immdead, mmember?"

"Dead, huh? Well that's too bad. I've never been one for necrophilia."

"Shh. Yurbigwords rrr ruininmyorgasm."

I chuckle. "Oh is that so?" I ask, before bending down to whisper into the sensitive hollow behind her earlobe, keeping my voice low and husky and filled with the promise of everything I still want to do to her.

"Looks like I'll just have to give you another one then."

She shivers and I smile as she lifts her body up without a word, giving me room to tug the fabric up and over her head.

My knuckles skim the swell of her breasts and she draws in a sharp breath, and suddenly I need more than anything to feel her nipples rasping against my palms, caught between my teeth. But then I see the line of her beautiful back stretched out under me, the graceful curve of her spine under all of that caramel skin and I can't help but run my hands over it, my thumbs brushing the delicately ridged line of her spine and my palms drinking in the smoothness of her flawless skin.

My thumbs kiss the dimples above her tailbone before I curl my hands around her hipbones, preparing to flip her over. But I barely flex my fingers before she is rolling up to face me, kicking her legs up and over my head in a fluid motion that has me composing gospel praise songs to her yoga teacher and vowing to make a sizeable donation to her junior high ballet studio. She plants her feet on either side of my body, then curls her shoulders up, leaning onto one propped forearm as she reaches for my hand.

"C'mere," she purrs, tugging lightly, the low command of her voice like the gentle stroke of her fingertips over my skin. I shiver, and the corners of her mouth quirk up knowingly.

I lean up and over her, lacing our fingers together and trapping her hand under mine on the bed in a roughly possessive motion that makes her eyes go hungry and wild. Her hair is splayed above her head like a dark phoenix falling to the earth in a burst of mahogany fire. I dip down to taste her lips, to savor the cherry-chocolate sin of her mouth, the hypnotizing smoothness of her tongue sliding, lush and luxurious against mine.

She wraps a toned leg around my waist in invitation so I leave a parting kiss at her lips and take my shaft in my free hand, guiding myself to the place where she opens to me. She bucks and shudders when I brush her clit, hissing through her teeth, her slender fingers tightening in mine. A current tingles up my spine in answer, at the warm and velvety softness of her sliding against the most sensitive part of me.

She slips her hand out from under mine and throws her arms around my neck, the muscles of her leg around my waist flexing in a silent plea. I groan behind my teeth as I oblige her, pressing forward so that the ridge at the head of my cock and only a bare few inches are buried inside of her. My vision blurs and the muscles of my supporting arm start to quiver because _good fucking_ _God_, she feels amazing.

Elena gasps and spasms around me just once, beckoning me deeper. I drop my other hand to the bed beside her and blow out a slow, calming breath as I ease my hips forward, gritting my teeth as I grant myself another inch of her, then another. A shudder moves up my spine and she ripples around me once more, a low moan rolling softly in her throat and _oh my God_. I am too close, too fucking close.

I need to get ahold of myself or I am going to leave her hanging like a chump and I _cannot_ let that happen.

It's a DSM-V kind of night. Again. I keep myself absolutely still and breathe, reaching through the fuzzy sensation-addled mush of my brain for the well-practiced names. Damn it, I have been having to do this way too often lately.

But how can I be blamed when I have this gorgeous creature in my bed _every_ night?

Elena whimpers and starts to wiggle impatiently and _fuck_ even that feels incredible but I force a sense of stillness to come over my mind even as I prepare my body to move, exhaling deeply as I call to mind the too-familiar recitation: _Impulse control disorders. A class of __psychiatric disorders__ characterized by __impulsivity__, a failure to resist a temptation, urge or impulse that may harm oneself or others. _

I pull back, ignoring the sight of her wetness shining on the shaft of my cock. _Good fucking God. Pathological gambing. Repeated betting behavior that interferes with a person's finances, job, family life or other relationships. _ I push back in while I'm still buried inside of her, pressing forward slowly, evenly, smoothly, giving her time to accommodate me and me time to settle.

I suck in a deep breath and prepare to pull away. But I don't manage even an inch of retreat before Elena pants, "_More_," and then she is hitching her other leg up and locking her ankles behind me as she flexes her abs and presses her hips up, taking me deeper inside of her. A desperate groaning sound escapes through her teeth as she stretches around me that makes my scalp prickle and my teeth ache and good_ God _she is hot and slick and tight and suddenly _everywhere_ and I have no hope. No hope at all.

"Fuck_, Elena_," I curse helplessly as the last thread of my already stretched-thin resolve decisively _breaks_. My hips jerk forward instinctively to meet her rolling thrusts and she moans desperately at the first perfectly-timed stroke and gasps my name at the second. The sound is like a jumpstart to the car battery of my sex-hazed mind, jolting everything into razor-sharp clarity.

I need her my way and I need her _now_.

I wait until her legs are at their tightest around me and I am buried deep inside of her before I lean back and catch her hips in my hands, carrying her with me as I bend my knees and sit onto my heels, letting her body drape over my legs and spill onto the bed like the best case for the beauty of the female form God has ever made.

She gasps in surprise, but when I pull out and slam back inside of her with more desperation than finesse a throaty cross between a whimper and a groan and a growl purrs in her throat and _fuck_ I love that sound. _Kleptomania. A persistent neurotic impulse to steal, especially without economic motive._ I breathe deep and try not to focus on the artful beauty of the picture her body makes, sloping down from where we're connected and curving onto the sheets in a graceful arc that is imprinted in my mind like a snapshot, burned behind my eyes.

I retreat until I feel her entrance squeezing desperately at the line at the head of my cock and then I am plunging forward once more, locking her hips in place and angling towards her front wall as I surge into her in a long fluid stroke that has bright bursts of white threatening at the edges of my vision, sends blinding-hot pleasure crackling down my spine like lightning. _Pyromania. The impulsive and repetitive urge to deliberately start fires. _ She cries out, throwing her hands up above her head and fisting the sheets for leverage, her eyes shut tight in pleasure as she strains her hips toward mine, arching up as I slam into her. I keep my angle precise and my rhythm steady so she will have no choice but to come for me exactly the way I am craving, hard and fast right now and yesterday and _dear God_ not a moment too soon.

I feel her clench once around me and I don't think. My thigh muscles tense and lift and I am up on my knees and clutching her hips against me and she throws her head back with a jagged gasp and I plunge deeper, feeling her flutter around my length as I give her another stroke. My body is all tension, coiled and on the very edge of breaking as I disappear inside of her over and over again. My pulse pounds in my ears, the base of my skull, rushes down into my swelling cock. Not yet, not yet, not yet. _Pyromania, Trichtillomania, Intermittent Explosive Disorder._

Fuck, maybe not that last one.

She clamps down once and calls my name and I say a silent prayer of thanks to God or Masters and Johnson* or the DSM-V or whoever is listening.

Her pleasure clasps me in wave after rolling wave and I surge after them, gritting my teeth and shouting her name as I forget everything but her body sheltering mine, her name searing my lips, and _Elena, Elena, always Elena_.

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_*Masters and Johnson (William H. Masters and Virginia E. Johnson) are psychologists who together pioneered research into the nature of human sexual response and the diagnosis and treatment of sexual disorders and dysfunctions from 1957 until the 1990's._

_Also, it should be noted that the DSM-V references in this chapter are not actual quotes from the DSM-V._

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_Author's Note: Whew. So what do we think, fellow Delena lovers? Was it worth the wait? What did you think of the Damon POV twist? I really need your reviews on this one folks, because it took some serious blood, sweat, and more than a few mortifying (and graphic….and detailed) email exchanges between Trogdor19 and Goldnox to make this happen. _

_Speaking of those two, be sure and check out all of the amazing work these ladies are posting here on this site for your reading pleasure: _

_Trogdor19 has a heartbreaking, sexy, beautifully written three-shot entitled __**Tinkerbell Laughs**__, and she is about to post MY MOST FAVORITE DELENA CHAPTER I HAVE EVER READ EVER to her sexy and suspenseful epic masterpiece of a trilogy, __**In Time We Trust**__, so I recommend you get caught up immediately if you haven't already!_

_Also, the wonderful and talented Goldnox is working on her second AU/AH piece called __**Order Up**__, which I have had the distinct pleasure of being able to read ahead on and it is SO GOOD, you guys. Her characterization of Damon will make you melt with his sexy sweetness. She also posted a heartrending and gorgeously written one shot recently entitled **Lay Me Down**_ _that you will not want to miss_.

_So off you go! Read to your little Delena-loving heart's content and leave reviews when you do! They are just good karma and frankly all three of us are sick to the point of obsession with how much we love them, so DO IT. _

_To my dear friends and fellow writers in crime: Goldnox, thank you for granting me access to the sex-position lexicon that is your dirty mind and your no-tolerance policy on word repetition. I am a better writer for your "viciousness" (Dragon's word, not mine). And Trogdor19, _oh_ Trogdor19, my beloved beta, who writes me pretty pink candy-colored emails with sin-red content, who is not above searching the interwebs for videos of hamsters to cheer me up, nor querying your husband-google on certain...questions regarding...anatomical...um...femaleness, and who has permanently struck the healthy fear of fish and Boisian arms into the heart of my husband. For all of this and more, I thank you! Love you, girlfriend!_

_OKAY! Sorry for the longest AN ever! Don't forget to Favorite, and Follow so you don't miss the next and final installment of this piece, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! Love you all!_

_XOXO,_

_Nightlightbright_


	2. Chapter 2 - Facets of Fate

_Author's Note: Heeeeyyyy friends! So can we just take a moment to say OMFG WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED ON TVD? No spoilers here, but are you guys FREAKING THE FUCK OUT like I am or WHAT?! Whew. Anyways, I also want to say, THANK YOU for all of the favorites and follows and review love you guys gave me in response to the last chapter! It was so wonderful to hear from you again and I just love you all so much I want to, like, smoosh your faces and kiss you and ruffle your hair and pull you into a big bear hug and buy you 56 ice-cream sundaes with 87 cherries and mini lollipop replicas of Ian Somerhalder on top! I hope this chapter can ease your post-TVD pain a little bit, if you are indeed feeling pain like I am. I can think of some people who might be a little less than upset… *cough*Goldnox*cough*. At any rate, wherever you are on the TVD WTF scale, I hope you enjoy this second and last installment of Forever, Finally._

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Chapter 2: Facets of Fate

Her fingertips are drawing lazy patterns on my chest, miles of warm pliant skin draped over the entire left half of my body, her ear warming the skin that covers my heart. I couldn't tell you how long we've been laying this way, or what time it is, nor could I muster up the energy to care. There's nothing but hours of free time to occupy us between now and Monday and I'd say we've kicked off the weekend in rather flawless fashion.

"I can't believe they're actually engaged," Elena murmurs after a long moment, picking up the thread that has run through the fabric of practically every conversation we've woven tonight. It's such a relief to have the weight of Ric's secret off of my shoulders. How Elena and I imagined we'd be any good at hiding our relationship for any length of time whatsoever is completely beyond me. I've never known two people who are more miserable at keeping a secret than we are, and as a therapist, I know _a lot_ of people who would have been eligible for that crown.

"If Jenna's patience is any indication, the wedding will be soon," she says excitedly, propping her chin up on my chest to look at my face. Her normally smooth and glossy hair is mussed into a haphazard tangle and she still has that sexy post-orgasmic flush that makes my heart and cock swell for two decidedly different reasons.

"More like _lack thereof_," I quip and she huffs out a quiet laugh. "I've never met a woman less unapologetic about going after what she wants. It's refreshing, actually," I say honestly. She could teach the majority of my clients a thing or two.

Elena chuckles fondly. "Well, while we're on this _refreshing_ topic." She narrows her eyes in a teasing glare. "Let's talk about what _I want_," she says, emphasizing the "t" with a crisp curl of her tongue against her teeth that makes it immediately clear that whatever is coming next will have a decidedly non-G rating. I resist the urge to fidget against sensation of blood rushing to a certain incriminating location.

"You realize we're going to have to up the ante now, don't you, Salvatore?" she purrs mischievously, kicking my heart into a gallop.

_Is she about to say what I think she is?_

But then she continues. "_Kissing_ at weddings is _so_ last year." She lowers her voice and trails a single finger across the swell of my bottom lip, her eyelashes sweeping down when her gaze follows the movement. "I've always fantasized about doing it in a public restroom," she purrs, wiggling her eyebrows in comically suggestive fashion, but the rosy hue rising in her cheeks tells me there is more than a little truth hiding under the humor.

"_Excuse me_, madam, but I am a _gentleman_," I announce, pretending to be scandalized, even though my mind is already racing through multiple tantalizing scenarios in which the lady's wishes come decisively and enthusiastically true. "We need to at least _try_ to maintain a modicum of decorum in public or you will ruin my good reputation."

She snorts adorably. "Oh is that so? And what reputation might that be?"

"Well, I _am_ the acclaimed author of the single biggest self-help sensation since 'He's Just Not That Into You,'" I say, laying the haughtiness on extra thick, and the optic-nerve-threatening eye roll I get in response is just one chest-smack short of exactly what I was going for. "Not to mention—now what was the exact quote again? Oh, yes, '_The Nation's Psychologist_.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Ugh, _stop it_ I'm going to vomit over here," she declares, dropping her chin into her elbow-propped palm and pointing a finger down her throat, gagging theatrically.

I can't help but chuckle. I catch her hand before it can fall back to my chest and lace her fingers between mine. The words I want to say next form in my mind but I can't decide if I should say them. _Is she ready to talk about this?_

And most disconcertingly, _why hasn't she brought it up since the restaurant?_

I swallow hard and keep my eyes trained on our hands. I toy with her fingers and she surrenders them to my absentminded movements without protest, waiting patiently as she senses the shift in the air, measures the weight of the words I'm not saying.

Of course my change of mood didn't get by her—nothing does. She's always seen me more clearly than anyone has before her.

Her perceptiveness should have scared me in light of the gigantic secret I was trying to hide from her in those torturous early days when I was filled with longing and self-loathing and the terrible knowledge that I was falling in love with her when I had promised to help her, to be her friend. But instead it drew me in, beckoned me closer, made me forget the rope that tethered me to everything I had ever known. Such is the power she had over me, the power she still holds today.

Even now, as I look up at her and catch the playful glint fading from her expression, as I watch it soften into that effortless air of patient expectation that has both beckoned and disarmed me from the very beginning, I can't deny her anything. Did I ever have a chance of not falling in love with her? It's hard to remember a time when I didn't, a life in which it was possible not to.

"Actually, I was hoping to save the sneaky bathroom sex for _our_ wedding," I say, my voice husky with the intention behind my playful words. I chance a peek at her, my heart hammering in my chest.

I see her eyes widen, an unmistakable flash of excitement passing over her expression before she blinks it away.

"Actually, Damon, I was going to talk to you about that..."

A stone drops in my stomach at her tentative tone and I pull the self-preservation parachute. "You were going to talk to me about having sex at our wedding? _God_, woman, you are insatiable!" I say, rolling my eyes in mock exasperation. But my mind is racing, trying to keep time with my pounding heart.

"Oh my God, stop that!" she says, sounding more amused than put out. But there is a vulnerability in her posture that wasn't there before. Her eyes dart to mine but skitter away before I can see what she is thinking. _God, what have I done?_

"I meant what happened at the restaurant tonight," she continues. "When you kissed my finger." I swallow hard, waiting for the inevitable rejection. _Damn it, I _knew_ I shouldn't have done that. I knew I should have waited until I was absolutely _sure_ that was what she wanted._

"I've been thinking about it all night and I just…well I guess I just wanted you to know that it's okay if you didn't mean it. No pressure. I mean, I know how it is to get caught up in the moment."

My chest unlocks and it's a fight not to make my internal sigh of relief an external one. She isn't pushing me away, she's trying to let me off the hook.

"Oh, and which moment was that?" I drawl sardonically. "The part where Ric made that Freudian slip about knowing she was the one…"

"'From the moment I laid you, _I mean laid eyes on you_!'" Elena mocks with a snicker, and I chuckle along, grateful to see her relaxed enough to tell jokes.

"Or was it when _Auntie J_ burned every eardrum in the restaurant with her enthusiastically F-word-laced acceptance?" I add. "Caroline would have been horrified if she wasn't so busy swooning."

"Oh c'mon now, Grandpa, don't be so old fashioned. Do you really think Jenna would have been capable of accepting a marriage proposal without an F-bomb? In a weird, twisted, totally-specific-to-them kind of way, it was kind of romantic."

"_So romantic_," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, really? Well, e_xcuse me_, Fabio," she scoffs, indignation flaring at the edges of her playful tone. "Who died and made you the romance expert? I thought it was all very sweet. The way the whole restaurant was watching…"

"I paid everyone in there five bucks to do that."

"No you did not!" she gasps.

"Yes, I most absolutely did…_not_," I say and she narrows her eyes at my last minute denial with the most adorably long-suffering smile I have ever seen. She tries to pull her hand away from mine, no doubt to give me that chest slap I've been angling for, but I catch her before she can slip away, clamping my fingers down tight and tugging. It has exactly the desired effect, throwing her off balance so that she topples onto me, catching herself only when her lips are hovering an inch above mine.

I release her hand against my chest so she can brace herself and press my palm into the small of her back. I follow the line of her spine with my fingertips before slipping into the silky waterfall of her hair, watching as the surprise melts from her eyes, as they warm and soften and grow heavy lidded with desire. I scratch my fingernails against her scalp at the base of her head before lifting up off the pillow and pressing my lips to hers. I kiss her gently, coaxing, easing her down with me as I settle my head back into the pillow.

Her beautiful body is so soft, so fragile against mine, her insubstantial weight belying the strength that is woven into every part of her that can't be measured. I flex my fingers into a gentle fist in her hair and she shivers, opening her mouth to me and sliding her tongue against mine with a bone-melting lazy-Saturday warmth that makes my cock twitch to life under her thigh and sensation caress every vertebrae in my spine on its way to my scalp.

She drops a final tender closed-mouth kiss to my lips before she pulls away, looking down at me with so much unconditional devotion I feel the painful intensity of it like a stab to my chest. Tears swell behind my eyes, a thick lump closing my throat.

God, I love her.

"You said that you were worried I was caught up in the moment," I say, my voice raw and gravelly with emotion and arousal and nerves and the knowledge of what I am about to do. She looks at me questioningly but lets me go when I roll away slightly and stretch my arm out to grasp the pull on my bedside table drawer. I reach in and feel around, searching, reluctantly having to pull away a little further before I finally can get my hands on what I'm looking for.

A small part of me is freaking the fuck out about how perfect it is that I just so happened to hide it in my bedside table drawer, but a larger part of me is not surprised in the least. I think deep down I always knew that when I finally decided to ask Elena this question, it wouldn't be in a restaurant filled with people, it would be in a moment just like this, exactly as we are now.

When I pull it out and settle back into place beside her, I hear her gasp.

My name is a hushed whisper on her lips that sends goosebumps raking over my skin.

"_Damon_."

I will never forget the sound.

I place the ring box over my heart, then take her hand in mine and rest them on the firm black velvet together, my palm warm against the back of her hand.

"I've been saving this for awhile," I tell her, adrenaline pounding through me so quickly I feel like I'm a heartbeat away from levitating. "But then Ric told me he was going to propose to Jenna and I didn't want to step on his toes." I swallow around the emotion thickening my throat. "I was going to wait until Stefan and Caroline's anniversary, you know, the night we finally…um…got together," I stumble awkwardly, and her smile beams brighter, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "But then we were at the restaurant and I—"

"You got caught up in the moment a little bit, didn't you?" Elena accuses smugly, sniffing and wiping at her eyes.

"I might have just a little bit," I admit with a chuckle before squeezing her hand, a silent plea for her to look at me. "But it wasn't out of the blue, and I didn't want you to think it was an impulsive reaction, like, some weird carrot I was going to dangle in your face in an emotional moment and then never speak of again."

When she meets my eyes I let her see the whole of the truth that waits there, all of my naked adoration, the surging love I feel for her, bigger than the four letters that give it a name, bigger somehow than even the body that holds the symptoms of its existence.

"I couldn't stand the thought of you thinking I didn't mean it," I continue. "Because I did, Elena. I do." I lift my hand to cradle her face, running my thumb along her cheekbone as she leans into my touch. Her tears spill over and stream in warm rivulets over my skin.

"I've never loved anyone the way I love you," I tell her honestly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears so I can see her eyes. "I'll never love anyone but you as long as I live," I vow.

She nods enthusiastically in answer to a question I somehow didn't even manage to ask, tightening her leg around mine and burrowing her head into my neck. She retrieves her hand still clutching the ring box to swipe at her eyes before curling it back around my ribcage, pulling me close. I throw my arms around her, my whole body leaning into hers of its own accord. She peppers kisses against my throat, the sensitive skin under my jawline, then scoots up to brush her lips against the hollow behind my ear. "Yes," is her almost inaudible whisper, more like an exhalation than a word, and then I am seeking her mouth with mine, needing to be connected to her in any way possible.

She must understand because she hitches her leg over my hip and guides me inside of her, slipping her arm around my neck and clutching at my shoulder as she takes me as deep as she can. My desperate groan slips into her mouth and she kisses me fiercely, accepting everything I have to give her, everything that I am.

The morning sunlight starts to color the sky outside our window and for the first time since Katherine died, since I lost my mother, perhaps since the day I was born, I feel like someone who has a place in the world, like someone who was not just made to exist, but to experience all the beauty this world has to offer, all the exultant majesty that is possible because of this woman and the love she has promised to me, only me.

"Yes," she says again, and it is the only word I'll ever need to know.

###

I can tell by the brightness of the sky and the sound of the city that's it's right around noon when I finally awake, wrapped around Elena's body like she's my super-deluxe body pillow and dangerously close to drooling on her chest.

"'Morning, sleepyhead," she croons, her arms looped under my neck and her fingernails running tracks over my scalp with the perfect combination of firm but not-quite-painful pressure. _God, that feels incredible._ I blink a few times and swipe at my mouth with the back of my wrist as subtly as I can before looking up at her, but when I do she isn't looking at me like I expect her to be.

She is looking at her ring finger.

"You like it?" I ask, my voice still rough with sleep.

"It's gorgeous," she says simply, tilting her hand slowly from side to side so the facets catch in the sunlight. She turns her head to search my face, wearing a serenely content expression that I have never seen before. The fact that the prospect of being my wife put it there makes my heart swell achingly inside my chest.

"It was your mom's," she says without a trace of a question in her voice.

"And her mother's before her," I confirm. "If it's too old fashioned, I can get you a new one," I tell her. "Something with a diamond instead of a sapphire for the main solitaire."

"No," she says quickly, squeezing her hand into a protective fist and shaking her head emphatically. "No way. This is absolutely perfect. I'm in love with it. Maybe more than I am with you, actually," she says, giving me a sly side eye before returning her eyes to the ring.

"Oh really?" I say before grabbing her around the hips and hoisting her on top of me.

"Damon!" she squeals, landing none-too-artfully draped across my chest. She peeks up to give me smirk that I'm sure is meant to convey that I'm in trouble, but I'm pretty sure it has the opposite effect she was intending. I never mind the kind of trouble I get into with her.

She rights herself, using her splayed hands on my chest to push herself up to a sitting position as her legs settle on either side of my hips, her eyes bright with mirth. She is mind-expandingly gorgeous, the wild cascade of her hair catching hints of gold in the sunlight, her flawless body an olive-toned sculpture of perfection. _God_, those incredible breasts framed with all of that smooth mahogany hair. I swallow hard and force my eyes away. I have got to think of something else and quickly because I'm pretty sure if Elena and I have sex one more time within this 24 hour period one of us is going to permanently break something important.

I catch the end of a lock of hair and rub the strands absently between my fingers. "I was going to get you a diamond ring instead, just in case you preferred something more modern, but then I got around to Googling what a sapphire symbolizes one night and it seemed pretty meant to be, actually." I go for a shrug, but I can already tell mid-shoulder lift that she isn't going to buy my transparent attempt to make the words sound off-handed.

"What does it mean? Let's Google it right now!" she says excitedly, turning towards her smartphone on her side table. I feel her weight shift as she prepares to retrieve it, but stop her with a gentle flex of my hand against her hip. She freezes and turns back to me, tilting her head questioningly.

"Kindness," I say, sweeping my knuckle across smooth skin of her cheek and skimming the border of her bottom lip where it melts into her chin.

I see surprise flare in her eyes before her expression softens into wonder. She settles the weight of her hips evenly against mine once more, her body still as she listens.

I skim the line of her jaw with my knuckles, the tender column of her throat, then open my hand and press my palm to her chest.

"Strength," I say, feeling the steady thrumming rhythm of her heart nudging my fingers beneath her skin.

I slip my hand downward, watching as color blooms over her body and her breath quickens, feeling the heavier rise and fall of her chest as I skim the valley between her breasts with a single fingertip. I brush the soft skin of her stomach with the back of my hand, doing my best to ignore the way she trembles when I skim below her navel, to stay focused on my intended destination. I veer reluctantly to the left and skate over her hipbone, following the line of her thigh muscle down. I pause when I feel what I am looking for, just a few inches above her knee on the inside of her thigh.

She inhales a quiet gasp as I trail my knuckle along the barely visible scar there, the only outward evidence of the accident that stole away her entire family, that almost stole her as well. We've never spoken about it directly. A gentle kiss or a lingering touch always spoke all the words that needed to be said.

But now, I need her to know what it means to me.

"Protection," I say, my voice low and rougher than I intend it to be. She looks down at me, her eyes darkening with pain as unshed tears well behind them, but she doesn't hide from me, doesn't look away.

"Good fortune." I swallow, attempting to clear the thickness closing my throat, but it somehow has the opposite effect, so that when I speak again it is barely above a gravelly whisper.

"Healing," I manage.

I take her hand and lay it over my heart, then cover it with both of mine.

"Hope."

The first of her tears spill from her eyes at the same time that I feel a tickling sensation near my ear, and it isn't until she reaches down to wipe it away that I realize I am crying too.

"I love you," I tell her before reaching up to cradle her throat with my palm, gentling the back of her neck with my touch, slipping my thumb along the delicate line of her jaw. My fingers barely flex against the nape of her neck and she is bending down to kiss me, her lips tender against mine.

She relaxes against my chest, her breasts pressing soft and inviting against my pectoral muscles. I wrap the entire length of my arms around her and hold her tight against me, reveling in the warm solidity of her body covering mine, the soft thump of her heartbeat against my breastbone, her hair catching in my tears.

It is several minutes before she pulls away, long after our breath has steadied and our bodies have stilled into peaceful silence against each other, so that when she disturbs it to pull away I am almost affronted at having to let her go.

She drops her hands to the mattress next to my head and pushes up to look at me.

"_Wow_," she says, laughing dazedly as she wipes at her eyes with her free hand and sweeps her hair away from her face. "Well, now I'm never going to give this ring back. Like, _ever_."

I chuckle, feeling happiness expand in my chest that she loves it so much. It means more to me than I'm willing to say. Katherine hinted endlessly for the flashy diamond ring I offered in its stead, and in the end I never got around to showing it to her.

Elena is the only woman who will ever wear it as my wife.

"I didn't think it was possible for me to love this ring anymore than I already did, but thanks to you? _Diamond-schmiamond_," she says passionately. "Thank you to your grandmother for her impeccable taste in gemstones," she says.

"And Google for the detailed symbolic definition," I offer.

"Ahh, I don't know," Elena says, her eyes narrowed skeptically. "Google and I have a…_complicated_ relationship, you might say."

"Fair enough," I chuckle, reserving my curiosity for a later date. "No thanking of the Google, then."

"Nope," she says with an exaggerated shake of her head, the mischievous look in her eyes when they settle back on me making my skin tingle to life. I know the thoughts that go on in that pretty little head of hers when that expression is adorning it, and as it happens, they are my absolute favorite kind.

She leans down, the silky caress of her hair tumbling onto my chest making me shiver shamelessly before she skims the tip of her nose against the column of my throat, the vulnerable skin beneath my jawline. I feel her warm breath rolling warm against the soft skin behind my ear, sending a surge of sensation to my cock that registers at the exact moment her lips touch my earlobe.

"But I think some serious thanks are due to be directed elsewhere," she whispers huskily, darting her tongue out to flick my earlobe once before curling it, warm and wet around the sensitive flesh. I try to trap my answering moan behind clamped-shut lips but it's no use. I am completely at her mercy and she knows it. I tilt my head to give her better access, running my hands up the sides of her body.

I can feel her smiling as she kisses her way down my neck, a giggle bubbling behind her lips when she catches my Adam's apple bobbing around a hard swallow. She dips her tongue into the hollow at the base of my throat, then presses her lips to my collarbone before moving south.

"Elena, I—" I start, trying to work up the will to explain about the possible permanent breakage of certain…

She places a single finger to my lips, silencing me.

"No more talking, _Signore_," she purrs commandingly. "You're mine now."

And I am more than happy to obey.

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_Author's Note: All together now...AAAWWWWWW. Happily ever after, folks. It's a beautiful thing. Hope you liked it! If you did, please REVIEW! And if you haven't already, don't forget to add me to your Author Favorites for all the future sweet and sexy Delena stories that are swirling around my head, waiting for me to find the time to write them. Nothing like your lovely adds and reviews for bending the time-space continuum!_

_Okay, but before we say goodbye (for now), I have a super duper MEGA IMPORTANT favor to ask of all of you lovely people, so please hear me out._

_As you know, the community of Delena lovers here on this website, readers and writers alike, are a close knit family. We all come together to celebrate and share and explore and enjoy our common love of Delena, TVD, and a certain sex bomb with raven hair and crystal-blue eyes (mmmm). But this is more than a fandom...we need each other. Readers turn into writers and writers feed off of the love and feedback of you readers, and everyone takes their place in the great circle of life, as Mufasa would say. But every once and awhile, an apportunity arises for you guys to use your power to actually CHANGE A LIFE. _

_Now is that time._

_My dear dear friend, one Miss Trogdor19, aka Michelle Hazen, has entered her EPIC MASTERPIECE of a original fiction book, __**Forsworn**__, in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest. I want you all to know that I have read this book multiple times and I am obsessively IN LOVE with it and I am not kidding when I tell you that she deserves to win this thing. And believe me when I say that YOU want her to win this thing so you can read this book sooner than later. It is right up all y'all's alley...action, romance, suspense, hunky guys and one bad ass mother-fucker of a chick that you will both be afraid of and secretly want to be, all set in a dystopian version of California._

_SO HERE'S WHAT YOU NEED TO DO. Go to Amazon dot com and search for "Michelle Hazen Forsworn." Download the first two chapters (in which there is a naked fight scene!) and then, for the love of all that is holy, LEAVE A REVIEW. Even if you only write one word, it goes toward her review count and helps her win the contest! PLEASE. Do it for me, do it for her, do it for yourself. But just DO IT. You have the power to change my friend and fellow sister in Delena-love's life forever._

_A lifetime of good karma not enough of a impetus? I'll make you a deal. If I hear from Miss Trogdor that y'all have helped her out, I promise to write you all another smutty one shot, which may or may not involve sex in the back of the Camaro. Any takers?_

_You know what you must do._

_Thank you for hearing me out, and thank you in advance for clicking over to Amazon and making my friend's dream come true!_

_I love you all. Until we meet again, lovies!_

_XOXO_

_Nightlightbright_


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